


The Lane - Part 1

by Walkinrobe



Series: So Dramatic [13]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:03:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinrobe/pseuds/Walkinrobe
Summary: Scott has something he has to tell Tess.





	The Lane - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes life throws you a curve ball.

The Lane - Part 1

He’s always loved running. Not Tess, though. She hates running. He loves the sweat, the clear mind, the burn in his lungs. It makes him feel alive. Despite Virtue Moir mythology there hasn’t been any long, tandem jogs, ending in a friendly sprint to an imaginary finish line, where they collapse, giggling on a grassy hill. Not even one.

He will take any chance he can to sneak out for a quick five miles. His favourite time to run is at sunset. He thinks it’s the afternoon light, the changing sky, and the peace and quiet.

His folks are coming over for their regular Friday night family dinner. He’s squeezing in a run now. Tomorrow morning Tess is heading to Toronto for the weekend with her Mom. There is no chance of a run while he’s single handedly wrangling their four kids. 

Their kids are awesome mini humans - funny, great conversationalists and mostly kind to each other. All Tess’ best qualities. He and Tess are usually out-numbered by the kids two to one, but with Tess gone it’ll be four to one. The kids are psyched for a weekend without Mom. Him? Not so much. It’s gonna be a long, long forty-eight hours without his best girl.

*

As he walks through the backdoor he sees Tessa’s phone in the kitchen. It’s on silent, madly vibrating against the marble counter top.

‘Virtch, your phone is ringing. It’s Casey. Want me to get it?’ he calls to her. 

‘Sure, I’ve got Oli and Ashy in the bath, tell him I’ll call back later’. 

She doesn’t.

*

She hasn’t spoken to Casey in a couple of weeks. She loves it when he calls her out of the blue. She is looking forward to catching up with him, and her other siblings, next weekend at her Mom’s big birthday party.

She wasn’t overly close with her older brothers as a child or teenager. Their age gap never really lending itself to shared interests, naturally this was compounded by the fact she was living away from home. Once she and Scott started their own family she found her common ground with her brothers. Especially, Casey. They are most alike in temperament and humour. They enjoy a sarcastic repartee and shared eyebrow raises. 

Plus Casey swears like a trouper. Just like she does.

Motherfucking shitballs. 

Did she say she’d organise her Mom’s cake? Yes, she did. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. That’s probably why he’s calling. She completely underestimated the effect that a fourth kid would have on her memory. If she doesn’t write it down it gets lost in a sea of kids’ activities, household chores and their work commitments.

She’s done nothing about that cake.

My God. Can she even order a specialty cake this close to the party?

She can’t work out the conversation occurring downstairs, just snippets of what Scott is saying. It’s mainly Scott agreeing to some proposed course of action. She thinks. Hopefully it’s about that fucking cake. 

Then she hears Scott make another call. She’s not sure to whom. Fingers crossed it’s a bloody cake-maker.

*

Oliver and Ashlynn are being adorable in the bath. Beyond adorable. Oli is filling and refilling a small cup with bath water and pouring it over his little sister’s head. Ashy is giggling and it’s encouraging Oli to repeat the trick over and over. He must have refilled the cup thirty times. Ashy is still finding it as funny as the first time. 

It doesn’t take much to keep Ashlynn happy. She is, without doubt, their lowest maintenance kid. The baby of the family and now, at age two and a half, definitely starting to give her three older brothers a run for their money. She also has all the Moir men wrapped around her little finger. Her future as a politician is assured - Ashy is already a master at smooth talking (to the extent her vocabulary allows) and unintentional, baby-faced emotional manipulation.

Tomorrow, she’s travelling to Toronto with her Mom. She makes a mental note to ask her about the Virtue family dynamic of thirty-five years ago. Both she and Ashy are the youngest of four. Her Mum is always handy with a heart-stopping, near catastrophic anecdote about her and her older brothers. She promised her siblings she’d say a few words at her Mom’s party, she needs some fodder for her speech.

‘Daddy!’ Ashy yells, looking to the bathroom doorway. 

‘Hey Lil’ Lady’, he coos. ‘What ya doing?’

‘Oli tipping water on my head!’ she points to her head and laughs.

‘I am. And she’s LOVING it!’ Oli proudly proclaims, just in case there was any doubt that Ashy wasn’t happy with the current situation.

She turns to her husband and smiles. He smiles back, a odd smile, it’s almost forced. Very unScott like.

In hindsight, that should have been her first clue.

Scott snakes his arm around her waist, pulling her hip off the doorframe and into his body. They look at each and Scott leans in to kiss her on the mouth.

‘No. No. Mommy! No kissing,’ Ashlynn stands up in the bath and shouts at her mother. ‘Dat’s my Daddy!’ she huffs. 

Ashy has developed a jealous streak in the past two weeks. It’s equal parts hilarious and annoying. Actually, that’s not true, it unequal parts hilarious and annoying. Mostly annoying. Ashlynn acts like a member of the Scott mafia, prancing around like his little bodyguard. She missed him desperately while he was gone on a week long work trip last month and she hasn’t let him out of her sight since he returned. She polices all affection directed to and from her father. The general rule being that only kisses directed to and from Ashlynn are permitted.

‘Ashy, you sit down in the bath please’ Scott gives their daughter his ‘cranky Dad’ face. ‘Mommy is my best girl and I love her very much. I’m going to give her a kiss’, Scott says in a firm voice to their bossy two year old. He leans in again and gently kisses her mouth.

‘I love you,’ she says to him.

‘I love you back,’ he responds.

‘Ash, you know they kiss all the time,’ Oliver says with an eye roll. ‘They think we can’t see them. But we can. Dad loves to hold Mom’s hand too. It’s so mushy’.

‘What do you mean we think you can’t see us?’ scoffs Scott.

‘You know Dad, when you lay on the couch watching TV and you kiss Mommy’s head and rub your hands on her body,’ Oli shrugs.

‘Yes. Daddy give Mommy lots kisses. I no like it’ pouts Ashlynn, supporting Oliver’s argument like his dedicated little wingman. 

‘OK, that’s helpful to know, thanks Oliver and Ashlynn,’ Scott’s looks to her and it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

She surveys the domestic scene before her. This is a great life they’ve created together. She’s glad their kids see them being affectionate. She wants her kids to feel loved and part of an unbreakable family unit. Although, she does think that she probably should be more vigilant when Scott gets handsy.

*

They plod downstairs with two squeaky-clean kids, having given the older boys an instruction to jump in the shower, to find Alma and Joe have unexpectedly arrived.

‘Hey Honey’ Alma sweeps her into an embrace. She wraps her arms around her mother-in-law. Alma’s hugs have been a constant in her life since she was seven years old. 

‘Hi Alma, hi Joe’ she replies. She pats Joe on his back as she walks past him.

Joe is being his usual affable self, bundling up Ashy into his arms, giving Oli a high-five. He’s a good guy. 

‘Hi Tessie’ he responds warmly. But his gaze doesn’t meet her eyes.

That should have been her second clue.

Suddenly, Scott appears at her side. 

‘Let’s go for a walk before dinner,’ he suggests close to her ear while sliding his hand into hers. His hand is warm and comfortable. Like home.

‘Oh, that sounds nice. I’ll tell Tom and James to hold off on their shower,’ she moves towards the stairs. 

‘I was thinking just us, Sweetheart,’ he tightens the grip on her hand and gently tugs her back to his side. He kisses her temple. ‘Mom, you don’t mind, do you?’

‘Not in the slightest. Take all the time you need’ Alma responds. 

There is a flicker of recognition between Alma and Scott. If she didn’t know them both so well she wouldn’t have noticed it. It passed across Alma’s face like lightening. Alma’s not happy. And her displeasure is directed at her son.

That should have been her third clue.

*

He’s never been so nervous.

Ever.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

How the hell is he going to tell her?

*

They hardly ever walk down this lane. She’s not sure why. The narrow dirt road is so picturesque. A post and rail fence runs along the left side, accompanied by a row of tall trees and wild flowers. The right side is an open paddock. It’s pretty. It makes her wants to take regular strolls with their kids. She’s sure they’d get some great photos in this afternoon light.

She wonders if this is part of his usual running route and is about to ask him that question when she catches a glimpse of his face. He looks morose. 

Something’s happened. And whatever it is, it’s not good. She can tell he wants to tell her. She wants to put him out of his misery.

‘Can I tell you something?’ she asks.

‘Anything,’ he squeezes her hand.

‘I know your keeping a secret from me and have brought me here to tell me,’ she stops walking to lean on the fence and she faces the sunset. It’s spectacular. The sky is a mottled pink and orange. The light giving the lane an other-worldly feeling. 

‘I have,’ he confesses, nodding his head as he leans on the fence too. His shoulder is touching her shoulder. Then he drops his head to place it on his arms, where they’re resting on the fence.

A shiver of terror runs through her. 

Fuck. This is serious.

She takes a deep breath.

She turns to face him and he lifts his head up towards her face.

‘Moir, are you going to break my heart? You promised me you’d never do that’, she looks directly into his eyes.

And holy shit. He’s scared.

She can feel the panic rising up her throat.

He slowly nods his head and a tear runs down his left cheek.

‘On my God, what have you done?’ she whispers. 

He cups her face so very, very gently and kisses her lips, once, so softly she hardly feels it.

‘Tess, I don’t want to say this to you but I don’t want anyone else to tell you,’ he gives a sad, resigned smile before letting go of her cheeks and taking her hands.

She is rooted to the spot. Unable to speak. Her whole body is tingling. Her peripheral vision disappears and all she can see is his face. What the fuck is he going to say? Please don’t ruin our life, please don’t ruin our life - that’s all she can think. 

But she knows he is going to say something catastrophic. He’s not one for dramatics.

He looks at her with aching tenderness. 

She wants to scream at him to tell her, to tell him to spit it out, stop dragging out the moment. Then she realises he’s having trouble speaking too. She squeezes his hands and manages to nod her head in encouragement.

He takes in a breath.

‘Your Mum was in an accident, Sweetheart. She was badly hurt’.

She can’t do anything but blink.

Then he says, in the quietest, most respectful voice, ‘She died, Tess’.

*

Tess gasps, covering her mouth with both hands. 

He feels overwhelming relief in telling her, which is immediately replaced by a gut wrenching fear about how she is going to react. 

He feels completely unqualified to deal with this situation. It feels suffocating that he only gets one chance to do this. He doesn’t want to get it wrong. He wants to do everything right to lessen her hurt and take care of her. His heart is breaking for her. And for him. And for her siblings. And for their kids. And his parents.

Kate.

Is gone.

‘But, but I’m seeing her tomorrow’ she states, shaking her head. ‘She can’t be dead’.

He doesn’t know what to say and his first instinct is to pull her close to him, cradling her head to his chest. She comes willingly.

‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,’ he rubs her back, long gentle strokes, up and down.

‘Did Casey tell you?’ she steps back, out of his embrace.

‘Yes’.

‘And you called your folks to come over early?’ her eyes go wide.

‘Yes’.

‘You brought me here to the lane on purpose?’ she looks around the lane, then out to the sunset.

‘Yes’.

‘Is that because you didn’t want to tell me in our house?’ she turns back to him and her voice breaks. Her face crumples.

‘Yes’.

‘So that there wouldn’t be a part of our house that would turn into ‘the spot where you told me my Mom died’?’ she touches the side of his face and starts to cry.

‘Yes’.

She collapses into his chest, he wraps his arms around her tight and takes her weight as her legs buckle underneath her.

‘You’re the most amazing person I know,’ she gets out through hard, devastated sobs.

To be continued...

**Author's Note:**

> Sniff, sniff.


End file.
